


His Princess

by Howland



Category: El Laberinto del Fauno | Pan's Labyrinth (2006)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Spanish Dialogue, pedophilic thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-06
Updated: 2011-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-21 02:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howland/pseuds/Howland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody knows who cares for Ofelia the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Small Fandom Fest over on LJ. Prompt was 'Caretaker.'
> 
> Dialogue is in spanish with translations in italics. Since it's been well over a year since my last major use of Spanish I had a beta for those bits, but if anyone sees any glaring errors still I'd appreciate corrections :)

“Buenos días Princessa.”   Fauno’s voice was deep and creaked with age.  His back, scarred and furrowed like the bark of a tree, was stooped from all those years hidden in the labyrinth waiting for the princess’s return.  His eyes were alien and dark, but today, they were smiling.

A head of dark curls turned quickly towards him at the sound of his greeting, a brilliant smile breaking across a young face.  “Fauno!”   Ofelia cried, full of joy.   The sun caught the dragon-fly shimmer of her dress as she stood up quickly, a pile of brightly coloured flower petals spilling from her lap. 

It was a warm sunny day in The Underworld and The Princess was playing out in the fields of wild flowers which surrounded the palace.  Though she swore to her father that she would stay near the palace, The King had still summoned El Fauno and ordered him to follow her out into the field.  The King needn’t know that regardless of the summons, this is where Fauno had planned to be.

She was fast on feet shod in velvet slippers, the same hues of green and blue as her dress.  As she ran they flashed amongst the tall plants like butterflies.  Shining like the sun, she looked to be near dancing across the ground. 

Even after all these years, the brightness of her youth had not faded.   Age worked different in The Underworld, and though she had passed several decades since her return to her kingdom, she possessed the face and body only a few years older than the one she wore on the day she died.  ‘Que hermosa.’  < _How Beautiful. >   _Fauno mused, long over the twinge guilt such a thought had once created.   ‘Mi Princessa.’  < _My Princess. >_

She threw her arms around him, her embrace familiar now after years of friendship.   Where once though her face had turned up to show tears in her eyes, now she gazed at him with a light of happiness.   Fauno was proud to see it, knowing that he had played such a part in putting it there.

It was a pride he did not try to hide.   Everyone knew of the great lengths he had gone to in order to secure the princess.   Indeed when she had returned to them, though they congratulated the King, it was towards Fauno that they turned their knowing looks of respect. 

He felt no remorse in accepting their silent praise. Indeed he relished it, glad that they could see who Ofelia’s real caretaker was.   While the King sat at fretted on his throne, it was Fauno to whom the princess had turned for protection.   These days when he saw the grief in the king’s eyes, Fauno knew even the king himself was aware that he had failed his daughter.   He had lost his Moanna, doomed her to age and die then live and die again in that terrible realm of mortality. 

Fauno did not feel pity for him. 

Where the king had been crippled by guilt and grief, Fauno had felt a drive to seek out the lost princess and become the protector her father was not. He exercised the full extent of his power and influence to find the girl and take her under his care.   Then even when her future had looked the most hopeless, he had refused to abandon her. If asked he knew to claim that his devotion had been a service to her father, but truth was, king or no, he would have felt the same drive to take care of her. 

He loved her. 

His gnarled arms wrapped around her gently, but tight enough that she did not slip when he picked her up and spun her in a staggering circle.  She laughed brightly, calling to be put down but her own grip around his chest never loosening. 

“¿Que está haciendo aqui, Ofelia?”  < _What are you doing here, Ofelia? >_ He asked when he set her back on her feet, worried that should he hold her much longer he would take more pleasure from the touch than he should.   Though his love was fierce, he had self-control enough to keep it to himself until she was old enough to understand. It hurt, sometimes, to watch her.  So beautiful a creature, unready to be loved, but he knew he must refrain.  Though her spirit was ancient in years, her body and mind were too young yet for such things. 

She did not seem to mind being let go, simply opting instead to take his hand and pull him over towards the spot where the grasses were bent down and she had been sitting.  She knelt to rifle in the grasses a moment.   When she came back up again, she held a crown of flowers in her hands. 

Daffodils, daisies, and poppies had been woven and braided together with care. The multitude of discarded blossoms with broken stems and crushed and torn petals littering the area showed the time Ofelia had put into getting her crown right. 

“Que Bonita.” < _How Pretty_. >  Fauno crooned reaching with one finger to pet the silky softness of the blooms. 

Ofelia smiled. 

“Es para tí, Fauno. Tengo una corona, y a hora tu tambien. Si este marchita, haceré otro.”  < _This is for you, Fauno. I have a crown, and now you do to. If this one wilts, I will make you another. > _ Having explained herself she motioned for him to bend down, her child’s voice appropriately solemn as she said.   “Te doy este corona por que tu eres como familia para mi, y si yo soy reál, mi familia tiene que ser reál también.”  < _I give you this crown because you are like family to me, and if I am royal, my family has to be royal too. >_

Her sincerity warmed Fauno’s heart, her delicate touch bringing a smile to his ancient face as she placed the crown on his head.   “Gracias, Ofelia” < _Thank you_. >   He murmured after a moment, reaching up to cup her face with his hand, his palm leathery with age.  She smiled and leaned into the touch.

Her eyes were serious as she continued to speak.   “Pardon por mi padre, sé que el te mandó.   Piensa que yo desapareciere otra vez si camino demasiado lejos del castillo.”  < _Sorry for my father, I know he sent you.  He thinks that I will disappear again if I walk too far from the castle. >_

No longer surprised by her abilities to observe and deduce, Fauno simply shook his head and patted her cheek gently.   “No se preocupe mi querida. Me alegre cuidarte.”  _ <Don’t worry my dear. It’s a joy for me to take care of you.>_

And truly it was. For every moment he spent denying himself his physical desires, Fauno took great emotional pleasure from being there to take care of Ofelia and be her friend.   It left him privy to more details of Ofelia’s life than even her father.   They shared smiles and memories and stories and moments like this, unsullied by past regrets and guilt.   Known as Moanna to all the rest of the court, Fauno was the only one who called the princess by her human name.  He knew of her childhood failures, and she had glimpsed the black part of his heart, but they did not hold these things against each other. 

As Fauno dropped his hand from her cheek she shared with him a knowing grin and said “Sabes que yo no voy a salir otra vez.”  < _You know that I’m not going to leave again. >_

And he did. He knew better than anyone. He knew his princess.

One day he would court her, follow her family’s stately rituals of romance and woo her until she loved him the same way he loved her.   For now however, this was enough.   To care for Ofelia.   His Ofelia.  It was enough.


End file.
